


The Mark

by HeyJaybird



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2162058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyJaybird/pseuds/HeyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: everyone is born with their soulmate’s name tattooed on their wrist like a birthmark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mark

Sasha, like everyone else, had a birthmark on her wrist. In dainty, curved letters, her soulmate’s name was blazed on to her skin: _Mikasa A_.

Like every young person, she’d spent years dreaming of the person with the name to match the tattoo. Her best friend Connie swore up and down that his tattoo - _Petra R._ \- was the famous pop star. She smacked him every time he said it.

Of course, she couldn’t say for sure that Petra _didn’t_ have _Connie S._ on her wrist. People kept the names on their wrist hidden mostly, only sharing them with close friends and family until they had found their match. Connie’s wrist was a perfect example of why: everyone with a name similar to the mark on someone famous would be declaring their love if they thought they had a chance.

Your soulmate was more than a mark - it was a connection, just as much as anything.

Sasha couldn’t figure out how she would meet Mikasa. The name gave few clues - it was the name of an old Japanese battleship, that she knew. So there couldn’t be that many Mikasas out there.

She often worried she’d end up having to go to Japan in a desperate attempt to find this person. She thought about it a lot. She’d be in Japan for a week, going town to town, talking to locals and casually bringing up the name. It’d be embarrassingly desperate, and on the last day she’d be so full of shame she wouldn't know what to do. Defeated, at the airport, at the very desk she was checking on her flight back to, she’d read a nameplate: _Mikasa A._

For now, she was tucked into the library, munching on a bag of chips and fighting to stay awake as she wrote a sociology paper. _Sometimes I think I should’ve stayed on the farm._ she thought as she stretched.

She reached for her chips…and found air.

A tall girl with silky black hair was glaring at her, Lays in one hand, a pen in the other. “If you don’t mind, I’m trying to work. Not all of us are here to nap…or snack.”

Sasha glared at her. _How fucking rude._ she thought, _She has no idea what I’ve been through._

"I’m very sorry to have disturbed your brilliance.", Sasha shot back, her patience tested by hunger and…some feeling, close to jealousy, but sweeter. Richer.

"Quite right.", the girl said. She paused. "Are you in Professor Smith’s sociology class?", she said, trying not to look interested.

Sasha nodded. “I’m doing his reading now. Oh my God. If only his grading curve was as generous as his eyebrows.”

The girl chuckled - her serious face breaking like clouds after a storm. “Mind if I read with you? It might keep you awake.” Sasha nodded. “But,” she said seriously, “Only if you give me back my potatoes.”

The tall girl rolled her eyes. “Maybe. Depends on if you behave.”

Sasha smirked. “And what’s your name, by the way?”

"Mikasa Ackermann.", she said, "and yours?"

Sasha was already halfway out of her chair by the second syllable. And on the floor by the third.


End file.
